


Webs of Heredity and Environment

by Dorian



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:39:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorian/pseuds/Dorian
Summary: A collection of my short Riverdale pieces.“Look, Jug, whatever. Come as my date,” Archie says. “Or, if you want, just pretend to be my date.”





	Webs of Heredity and Environment

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely betas, village-skeptic and bewarethesmirk. <3333

“Look, Jug, whatever. Come as my date,” Archie says. “Or, if you want, just pretend to be my date.”

An obnoxious patch of sunlight cuts across the wrecked sheets and the pale blue section of mattress at the untucked corner. A backlit outline curves along Archie’s shoulders as he scoops his clothes off the floor. All Jughead wants is to drift into another fifteen minutes of hazy, fucked-out sleep.

Archie tosses a shirt at him, which he catches by instinct before it lands on his face.

“C’mon, it’ll be three hours, four tops. The music won’t suck. I’ve got a plus one, so no cover. I’ll buy you a basket of wings for every hour we stay. You like their wings.”

“Wings are like pizza. Even when they’re bad, they're—”

“Jug.” Archie runs his hand through his hair, making the bedhead worse, and doesn’t look over at him. He’s holding his shirt bunched up in his hands, standing in that square of bright yellow light.

Jughead pulls himself upright enough to knock his head back against the rough brick wall, which hurts more than he intended. He needs a headboard because the bare brick aesthetic has not been easy to live with. He needs curtains. He needs more coffee than exists in all of Brooklyn despite rationally understanding that much caffeine is lethal.

Jughead wants to say, _If you bring the person you’re dating, by definition, it’s not a pretend date._

He doesn’t. Because logic isn’t how you argue with Archie.

And—they’re dating. But the end of the statement keeps curling upward like a rain-warped page.

Jughead mentally holds up the term Boyfriend to Archie, who’s pulling his wrinkled t-shirt over his head. He considers telling Archie his shirt is on inside out, but Archie glances down and strips it back off. There’s a bite mark on his hip, right above that sharp inward crease. For a second all he can think about is how that made Archie buck up under him, made Archie reach down to further mess up his hair. Not tugging or pushing, just—

Jughead knocks the back of his head against the wall again.

“Whatever,” he hears himself say. “I’ll go.”

Archie is shoving his feet into beat up Converses he’s had for years now while pushing a folder of sheet music into his open backpack and dropping his chin down to check how unacceptably just-been-fucked his hair looks in the mirror by the front door.

Archie’s reflection meets his gaze and shoots him that earnest, break-your-heart smile. He says, “Cool. Great. So get dressed already.”

Archie tosses jeans at him, which Jughead catches by instinct. Like always.

“Fine,” Jughead says, tugging on his shirt first. “Three hours max. For the wings.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Archie replies and leans back against the front door that’s only steps from the bed, because in a place this small nothing is very far away.

Archie crosses his arms, his bag dropped at his feet, and waits there for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [@burberrycanary](http://clktr4ck.com/qcg8).


End file.
